


I Can Do Better Than You

by HazzilyEverAfter



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Hate to Love, Hurt/Comfort, I can never think of any tags to add..., Love/Hate, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-11 23:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5645896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazzilyEverAfter/pseuds/HazzilyEverAfter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis owns the clothing store “The Rogue”, a shop that sells the latest fashion trends and all the big brands.</p>
<p>He’s making a profit, the customers are a steady flow, and he’s satisfied with his life until a hipster-styled clothing outlet called “Harry’s Styles” opens across the road.</p>
<p>Louis knows what this means.</p>
<p>This means WAR.</p>
<p>OR</p>
<p>A Shop Owner Rivalry AU because the thought of Harry and Louis ever hating each other is entertaining. (They don’t actually TRULY hate each other in this, because that would require a miracle worker or ten.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, hi guys!
> 
> This is just the prologue to what is hopefully a rather lengthy fic. :D
> 
> The prologue is just about the first time that Louis and Harry meet, where Louis is being dramatic because Harry's opened a store that could be competition to Louis'.
> 
> This work is meant to be hate-to-love, but to be brutally honest... I just can't picture them truly hating each other. :P
> 
> And if there is any hate at all, it's pretty one-sided *ahem* Louis *ahem*. So, yeah.
> 
> Let me know what you think! x

“Heeeey! What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Whatever I damn well like!” Louis retorts, flipping the approaching man off and continuing to pull pieces of clothing off of their hangers only to throw them messily back on the rack. They’re all outrageous, ranging from tie-dye headscarves to tail-coats with glittery lapels. Absolutely ridiculous, and, by the look of the approaching man wearing a suit that looks like Louis’ grandma’s bedspread, right up his alley.

In his hurry to cross the store and stop Louis, the man accidentally runs into a stack of skinny jeans and topples them over, making a mess of the floor. He hesitates his steps for a moment, and Louis uses the split second to pull off another handful of clothing off of their hangers.

“Well, I want you to stop!” The man has finally reached Louis, and quickly grips Louis’ wrist, halting his movement. “Please?”

Which. Is absolutely ridiculous, because even now, when half the shop is already a disorganised heap from Louis’ efforts, he’s still phrasing his request as a question.

Louis also notices that his hands are very big.

“Too bad, I don’t want to stop.” Louis cranes his neck around. “I’m only halfway done.”

At this, the man pouts obscenely, and Louis takes a good look at him for the first time. He has wide, green eyes, and plump lips, the bottom one protruding at a rather alarming angle. He has chocolate curls, which just about reach his shoulders. Louis likes chocolate.

“Who are you, anyway? You can’t tell me what to do.” Louis adds, because he can’t get distracted. He’s on a mission.

The man perks up at this. “I’m Harry. And I actually can tell you what to do, because this is my store you’re currently vandalising.” His lips quirk up at one side, before he seems to remember something. “Oh. And it’s nice to meet you, I guess.”

Louis huffs. “You own this stupid shop? I’m not even surprised; it seems to give off the same hipster vibe that you do.”

Harry frowns. Whether it’s because Louis has just called his shop stupid or because he ignored his peace offering, Louis has no idea. “It’s not stupid, I don’t think.”

“Who are you trying to convince, you or me?” Louis snorts. “And yes, it most definitely is.”

“It’s quaint.” Harry argues.

Louis gives Harry an unimpressed look. “Well, then it’s just as ‘quaint’ as your stupid shop name. Calling it after yourself, seriously? That must be a new low,” Louis looks Harry up and down, “Even for you.”

A line forms between Harry’s brows. His grip on Louis’ wrist tightens slightly, and good. Louis seems to have properly annoyed him, now.

“What’s wrong with the name ‘Harry’s Styles’?” His tone has a sharper edge to it now, no longer as playful as before.

“What isn’t wrong with it?” Louis snaps back, and wrestles his wrist out of Harry’s grip. He shoves past Harry to the entrance of the store. “God, you’re such an idiot!”

“Well, you’re such an asshole!” Harry then immediately bites on the edge of his lip, looking guilty and slightly apologetic.

“Good! Well, I’m glad we’re clear on our opinions of each other!” Louis turns around and exits the store, slamming the door shut on his way out.

He doesn’t see Harry’s flinch, or realise that he’s still being watched when he enters the shop on the other side of the street, sliding behind the counter and throwing the clothes he’s still holding onto the floor, before thinking better of it and picking them all back up.

He doesn’t see Harry’s small smile, either, when Louis starts folding them all into presentable squares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My main [Tumblr](https://hazzilyeverafter.tumblr.com/) and my side blog for [One Direction](https://hazzilyeverafter-onedirection.tumblr.com/).


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis decides that maybe he should lay off of Harry a bit.
> 
> A bit turns into a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!!!
> 
> I'm not sure if anyone even reads these, but if you finish the chapter, could you please read the end notes?
> 
> Thank you!! x

The day after Louis meets Harry, the man walks into his shop in a pair of black jeans that Louis is 99% sure are painted on, and a button up that definitely isn’t buttoned up. It’s gaping open obscenely, and, right.

Louis has to pinch himself behind the desk to stop his continuous staring at the swallow tattoos on his collarbones.

Louis decides that he hates swallows. And collarbones. They’re both overrated. Yes.

…What?

He has to physically drag his attention away, and when he meets Harry’s eyes, there’s a knowing twinkle in them he honestly doesn’t like.

“What do you want?” He grumps, adding in an eyeroll for maximum effect.

A small quirk of lips. “First, your name,” Harry cocks his head to the side, contemplating, “And then the clothes you technically stole from my shop.”

He snorts. Harry thinks he’s so cool, does he? Well, he’s _not_. There can only be one cool person in the room at one time, and he’s already decided that it’s him, thank you very much. The room is not big enough for the two of them. He wonders how to make himself sound really sneery.

“It’s Louis,” he settles on, “and fine, if your income is so bad that you’re going to miss the clothes I took, then have them back.”

He reaches under the counter to where he’d stacked them, and oh, _right_. In a moment of weakness, he’d _folded_ them. _Neatly_.

And that just won’t do, so he quickly rumples them all into a ball, and finally straightens up to hand Harry the messy heap. “There you go,” then, as a second thought, “now piss off.”

Harry’s frowning, now, and he allows himself some time to be smug about putting it there, but then he caves.

“What?”

Harry pauses, blinks. As if rousing himself back into the present. “…Um. Nothing.” He frowns some more. “But did you just rumple these on purpose?”

 _Dammit_. He’s smarter than he looks, because now Louis’s _busted_ , and _oh no oh no oh no_ what does he say _now_?!

“…What? No. What - uh, no.” He realises belatedly that he’s just repeated himself, and also that he’s getting flustered.

He wonders how he even managed to pass drama back at school.

Harry’s dimples have popped out, and his eyes are crinkled with how wide he’s smiling. “You totally did, you wanker!”

“Why aren’t your words matching your face?!” Louis exclaims. “And I totally did not!”

Harry hums, tapping his fingers on the counter. “Fine, I believe you.”

He doesn’t. Louis can tell he doesn’t. But he’s willing to let it drop, and he’s a little grateful that Harry didn’t make a huge deal of proving Louis wrong.

“And I don’t need it.” Harry adds on.

“Huh?”

“I don’t need these clothes to make a profit,” Harry clarifies.

“Then why’d you come over?” Then he remembers that he needs to be mean. Can’t forget to be mean; his business depends on getting rid of Harry’s shop, whether by provoking Harry into moving or by ruining his shop sales. “Tosser.”

Harry seems unfazed by Louis’s very witty insult. “I just wanted to know your name.” A devilish grin spreads over his face. “And check out the competition.”

Louis bristles. He should have known that Harry wasn’t just being nice for no reason. He had a _motive_ , tried to make Louis _lower his guard_.

Lucky he’s super duper good at hostility, then, hah! He’s going to be the meanest of the meanest, so mean he makes grown men cry and lions run away with their tails between their legs!

“Honey,” he sneers. “Your shop is going down. I’m going to see that it does, if it’s the last thing I do.”

Harry’s friendly grin drops, and now he’s looking at Louis with puzzled eyes and a twist in his mouth. “Why? We could be friends, if we wanted. I’d like us to be friends.”

“Well, Harold,” he makes sure to pronounce the next part very clearly. “ _I don’t_. I don’t like your stupid drawl of a voice, I don’t like your stupid mug of a face, and I don’t like your stupid idea of a shop. So fuck off and make friends elsewhere, because I don’t need or want you to be one of mine.”

By the time he’s finished, Harry’s sucked his lower lip into his mouth and wrapped his arms around his stomach, and his face is flooded with so much hurt that Louis instantly feels like an awful excuse for a human being. Okay, maybe he went a little overboard. He can’t take it back now, though.

Harry’s looking at his face, as if searching for something, and Louis keeps his scowl on full force. Apparently, Louis’s drama skills aren’t so bad after all, because Harry seems to find what he’s looking for, and with a small, almost unnoticeable nod turns around, clutching the pile of clothes to his chest and walking straight out.

Louis watches him go, and keeps telling himself that it’s _okay_. It’s _worth it_. That _his shop comes above_ _all else, even dimple-faced curly-haired man-childs_.

Harry will be alright, anyways. He has the face of an angel and the voice of a sex god, so he should have no problem getting over simple old Louis and making lots of nice, hipster friends.

 

xxx

 

It turns out that yes, Harry can make lots of hipster friends, because the day after their second fight, Harry is with a tall, lanky man with quiffed hair who is definitely a hipster, if the skin-tight jeans and questionable shirt is to go by.

Not that Louis is looking, of course, because Harry is irrelevant to him, anyways.

Except he is totally looking. And he’s decided that he should make the world a better place by rubbing his coolness off on the two hopeless idiots across the road.

So, with that decided, Louis exits his shop and strolls into Harry’s Styles (oh my god he actually can’t take the name seriously), hands in his pockets and looking as Zayn-like as possible, with a smouldering look and a slouched but still enticing walk.

Harry and quiff-guy stop talking immediately when he walks in. There’s a moment of silence, in which Harry’s eyes flutter to the floor after noticing Louis.

“You look stupid.” Mr. Quiff sniggers.

Louis deems that unworthy of a response.

“Who’re you?” He sniffs.

“I’m Nick. But I think the appropriate question is,” Nick tilts his head forwards, “Who’re _you_?”

Before Louis can reply with an eloquent _I’m the best person you’ll ever meet, doucheface_ , Harry interrupts.

“That’s Louis,” he all but whispers, voice small and resigned, toes curving inwards and stance screaming defeat. He absentmindedly tucks his chin into his neck, and although he’s way taller than Louis, he suddenly seems small and terrifyingly _vulnerable_.

Right. Looks like Harry hasn’t forgiven him yet.

 _Why would he? You were a total asshole to him, you know_.

Harry doesn’t offer much explanation to his introduction, but Nick seems to catch onto something, because he’s suddenly straightening up and downright scowling at Louis. His posture stiff and highly unlike his relaxed hunch from a minute ago, he lopes an arm around Harry’s shoulders, cuddling him closer as Harry leans into his touch.

“Well, _Louis_ ,” Nick addresses him, voice icy and demeaning, “You’re not welcome here. Fuck off to wherever you came from.”

So, with one last look at Harry, who’s still studiously avoiding his gaze, Louis does.

He turns right around and leaves.

 

xxx

 

Louis is staring across the street again.

It’s become a bit of a problem of his.

But this time, Harry’s alone, no _Nick_ , so Louis decides that this is a good time as any to drop by and visit. He’s going to apologise, probably. He might be a dick sometimes, but he doesn’t like to seriously hurt someone’s feelings.

Especially Harry’s, because his whole doe-eyed curly-haired cherub-faced demeanour is incredibly hard to resist, and watching it crumple wasn’t exactly a proud moment of Louis’s life.

So he goes. He takes a deep breath, and walks into Harry’s Styles.

Harry’s placing a stack of luminous green fedoras on a shelf when he notices Louis.

He scrambles around a little, eyes wildly scanning the room as if he’s looking for somewhere to bolt, wringing his hands together before he thinks better of it and folds them in front of himself, instead.

He purposefully talks himself up, and finally looks at Louis.

“What. Do you want.” And, okay. So Harry’s finally had enough of Louis’s shit, then, and the way he says it isn’t really a question. Louis bites his lip.

When he doesn’t answer, Harry’s eyebrows pull together, but he rolls his eyes as if it’s what he expected anyway, and turns back around to face the fedoras. He unfolds his arms and starts restacking the hats for something to do, and Louis notices that his hands aren’t as steady or controlled as his stoic posture. They’re even shaking a little, so that a fedora is knocked onto the floor.

Harry makes no move to pick it up.

When Louis just stands there and watches Harry, he realises that it’s the fourth time Harry’s restacked the hats. It takes him a minute to realise why. And when he does… oh. OH.

Harry’s _nervous_.

Finally, Harry can’t take it anymore. He whips around, and points his finger shakily at Louis. “What do you _want_ from me?” His voice cracks halfway through. “You’ve made it quite clear that you don’t like me, so why can’t you just _stay away_ and leave me _alone_?!”

Despite his words being angry, he doesn’t look it. He doesn’t look it at all. There’s a shiny film to his eyes, and his lower lip is wobbling so uncontrollably that even biting down doesn’t stop its movements. There’s a hitch on every intake of breath, and his curls are hanging dejectedly over to the left. His eyelashes are clumped together, and his shoulders are hunched so far in that Louis has the overwhelming urge to give him a cuddle, until his features are smoothed over and he’s giving Louis the goofy but _genuine_ grin that Louis didn’t realise he’d been missing.

And Louis feels like a total asshole, is the thing. Because Harry has the endless enthusiasm and the boundless optimism of someone who enjoys life and makes the most of everything, and his features are so innocent and so _absolutely lovely_ that Louis wouldn’t be surprised if he could get away with murder. He seems like the type to go stargazing on the roof and watch the sun set into the sea and take pictures of the birds and greet anyone and everyone on the streets.

And he _has_ , is the thing.

When Harry and Louis first met, he’d messed up his shop and given him the rude finger and offended his name, but yet Harry hadn’t even seemed bothered – had said “nice to meet you” instead, and all Louis did in return was act like a total brat.

Time and time again, Harry has taken the first step and acted civil and kind; has offered friendship and is the sort of person who just gives and gives and _gives_ all the time, but all Louis had done is take and take and take it all; take everything Harry had offered; and shoved it straight back in Harry’s face.

So yeah. It’s time to apologise, maybe. They don’t have to be friends. They _don’t_ , because Louis still has to put his shop first, but they can at least be civil with each other.

Harry’s still watching Louis when he meets his eyes again, but now there’s an aura of resignation in them; as if Harry’s realised that Louis will never change, isn’t here to change things between them; and Harry just sighs, and drops his hand, curling his arms around his stomach instead. Louis notices that it’s a habit of his whenever he’s upset. He tries not to think about how he knows this, and he’s only seen Harry three times. Tries not to think about what this means. How he probably makes Harry feel, if he’s seen Harry do it so often.

Harry’s stance has loosened now, no longer aggressive. He just looks small, now. Small, and insecure, and so incredibly lost and in need of someone to be there for him that Louis lets himself cave, for a second.

He slowly walks up to Harry, and Harry seems to shrink into himself more and more as Louis advances. He’s peeking up at him through wet eyelashes and a messy clump of curls, eyes wary as he stops in front of him.

Louis raises his hand, and Harry physically _flinches away_ , eyelashes fluttering, as if prepared for Louis to _hit_ _him_ , or something.

It just makes Louis feels even more like shit. His hand hesitates, before he slowly grabs onto one of Harry’s wrists, uncurling it from around Harry’s waist. Harry lets him, but he visibly stiffens further, his other arm holding on tighter to himself so that his knuckles go white.

“Hey,” he breathes out on an exhale. Harry risks a glance up, blinking slowly at Louis, eyelashes fanning over his cheeks. His head is still angled down, though, so most of his face is in shadows and Louis can’t see his full expression. “Hey,” he repeats, squeezing Harry’s wrist slightly; in reassurance that _hey, it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you_.

Harry finally tilts his head up and looks properly at Louis. He doesn’t make a sound, and his eyes are cautious, but his face says _go on, I’m listening_.

It’s more than Louis deserves.

“Harry,” he starts, unsure why he’s whispering, but feeling like this moment is important; fragile enough that his normally boisterous voice would break it. “Harry. I know, like. I know that I’ve been a bit of a dick to you, yeah?”

Harry lets out a quiet little huff at this, as if saying _just a bit, Louis? Really?_

Louis lets a small smile curve his features. “Or a lot, probably. A lot of a dick to you. And I just wanted to say that I do that sometimes, and I don’t really mean it. Sometimes I’m sarcastic, or a bit of a shit, and sometimes I’m just not good at making friends because I’m loud and brash and act too self-centered for my own good. Like. I didn’t mean to upset you when I said your shop name sucked. It’s a little odd, sure, or _quaint_ , as you put it, but I just wasn’t thinking and I know you found it upsetting, so I’m sorry.” He pauses to take a breath, studying Harry’s face closely as he’s speaking; at the way he’s fully watching Louis now, with his eyes wide and lips parted as if he can’t quite believe what’s happening. “And for the record, your voice is a drawl, sure, but it’s lovely. And your face isn’t an ugly mug. And… and. I’m sure anyone is lucky to have you as their friend.” Louis finishes off, and feels an overwhelming sense of relief as Harry’s cheeks turn pink and he looks down at his shuffling feet, unable to meet Louis’s eyes. He flickers a nervous glance upwards, and when he sees that Louis is still smiling down at him, he quickly looks away again, ducking his head.

When he finally looks up again, he’s smiling, though, a pleased little thing that crinkles his eyes and brings out the hint of dimples, so Louis thinks they’re okay.

With his teeth sunk into his bottom lip, Harry finally mumbles, “So you admit that you rumpled my clothes on purpose, then?”

Louis watches the way that one of Harry’s feet draws small circles on the floor. “Pfft. I am admitting no such thing. I would _never_.”

Harry’s answering grin is wide and open, bringing out the dimples full force and turning his eyes into slits. He looks genuinely happy when he replies, no trace of the insecure, vulnerable mess from before. “Yeah, okay, Lou. Sure. I have no idea what I was talking about.”

Louis grins back. “I know right, Harold? You do talk some shit sometimes.”

And vaguely, in the back of his mind, Louis wonders when exactly they deemed themselves comfortable enough with each other to resort to nicknames, but he doesn’t think about it too much, because he’s still holding the wrist of a boy who’s grinning at him like he hung the sun and the moon and the _stars_ , and he doesn’t feel inclined to let go anytime soon.

“Hey, Lou. Wanna help me stack clothes?” Harry rushes to add, “Not that I’m saying you have to make it up to me, or anything, but, like. There’s a lot to do, and just. _Please_?”

And how can Louis resist a puppy-dog face like Harry’s, really? With curls framing his face and wide pleading eyes rounded off with a full-on pout, he doesn’t look a day older than sixteen, even though logically he has to be in his early twenties.

“Yeah, okay. Fine,” Louis relents. “But don’t get used to it, alright? It’s a one-time thing, this.”

Harry doesn’t seem to mind. He’s beaming, and tugging on Louis’s arm until Louis has no choice but to follow. He shows Louis the boxes of clothes, and tells him how to hang them, taking extra time to double-check that Louis is following. Louis rolls his eyes, but is secretly hopelessly endeared.

It turns out that Harry shouldn’t have bothered, anyway, because after three hours and multiple boxes, all they’ve managed to do is find as many outrageous articles of clothing as possible, put them on, and prance around like idiots.

...Louis isn’t sure he minds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. :)
> 
> So, I've decided to end this chapter here, and I'm wondering if any of you want another chapter, where their relationship develops into something more romantic?
> 
> Or should I just leave it and make this a general fic with no pairings instead, and change the tags? Because I'm not sure all that many people are interested in this story.
> 
> Please offer your opinion in the comments if you can! Thanks! x
> 
> My main [Tumblr](https://hazzilyeverafter.tumblr.com/) and my side blog for [One Direction](https://hazzilyeverafter-onedirection.tumblr.com/).
> 
> If you're interested, here's my Tumblr, and my side blog for One Direction. Come and visit <3


End file.
